It's a beautiful day to feel insane
And concuss yourself against a wall
and On the day that it comes to be
you have no friends to make you free

Scenes of days weeks and shames they pass
And you know that you're a fucking mess
Forced to replay everything that went on
Alone, in your bed, no comfort from the one

and the empty vessel is placed at the foot
you could fill it with memories puked out
forced like a young child to labour
brainwashed into thinking they'd win god's favour

vomit out memories of pretty blonde girls
vomit out memories of indulgence in classrooms
vomit out memories of guilty thoughts unclean
of those you wished would want to be treated mean
vomit out memories of non-bloods and guys
vomit out a one-track pornographer's brain
vomit out conversations with the only one who listens
and memories of wounds that felt right to glisten

vomit out the times you pulled at your hair
vomit out distaste for the ones you claim to love
Finally, vomit your worst self-provoked path to doom
into an overflowing vessel, now fills the whole room